Three Times Lucky
by Drop of Grace
Summary: A rouge older brother, no parents, all her siblings, and Anwen herself, have synesthesia. Anwen Lestrange is having trouble holding up her family. Along with her, and her two friends, Scorpius, and Albus, the trio makes up something much more. Something that holds their life in the balance. This is beyond Voldemort - this is the Third Generation, where the rules are all different.
1. Chapter 1

_There has always been talk of three._

_Three worlds..._

_Three stars..._

_Three children._

_It had been three, when the last of the Marauders fell._

_It had been three, when the Dark Lord was defeated._

_And now,_

_It is three again._

* * *

Everyone has a different way of coping with stress.

Albus tells me that his Aunt Hermione studied like crazy for her tests, and that test really stressed her out. She was almost obsessed with getting good grades, back when she was in Hogwarts. And if you ask me, she's still obsessed with good grades, as the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She takes things very seriously.

My brother, Jake, he likes to skateboard when he's upset. It's a Muggle sport, in case you've never heard of it, where you travel and do tricks with a board on wheels. Jake got into it while he was still going to a Muggle grade school, before he turned eleven.

I think Jake's going to need a new board soon.

Three years ago, while I was in my first year of attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, my parents were murdered. It was, no contest, the most earth- shattering, nightmare- inducing thing that has ever happened to me.

Anyway, I have three brothers and two sisters, and this year, we will all be in Hogwarts. Which means that I have to wake up right now and get ready to go, unless I want to get in trouble. But of course, this isn't the thing you think of when you're trying to catch the last precious rays of sleep, and a good dream. It's an escape from the outside world and all it's problems.

Oh, my way of dealing with stress? Funny you should ask. I like music- Muggle music. Yes, I am a half blood. I also like writing. And sleeping.

I'd stayed up late that night doing both writing and listening to music, so I very slowly, wake up. It takes about five minutes for me to actually become physically functional. Things come into blurry focus, and I reach for my glasses on the desk beside me.

Then I start, and stand up, no longer tired. Merlin's beard, I left my MP3 Player on the entire night! It won't be fully charged for today, and this may be the last opportunity to use a wall outlet until summer break! I jam my glasses onto my face, the cast around for my MP3 charger.

Today... September first. The start of my fourth year of Hogwarts.

I scramble for the charger.

Because the two of my greatest fears are fire and a 10% battery, like most of the non-magical world.

Nah, I'm just joking. I mean, it is 2020, and I'm surprised that the magical world STILL hasn't discovered electricity yet. Maybe the Muggles are more technologically advanced than we are. Wouldn't using electricity decrease the amounts of open fire you have to use when there's no such thing as an overhead light?

"Anwen? ANWEN!" I have my trunk open, and I'm shoving as much as possible into it as will fit. The doorknob rattles. I'd locked the door, but I know that a simple "Alohamora" would open it. "Open this door right now!"

"Uh, give me a minute," I call, but the door flies open anyway. There stands Molly Weasley, ready with her and, and already spelling things into my trunk. She knew that I'd wake up late.

That's right, when Torsen and Amanda Lestrange are murdered, Ron and Hermione Weasley are the first to volunteer for foster care.

And yes, you saw it. Lestrange. My last name. Torsen, my father, is Bellatrix's cousin's (on her father's side) son. Did you understand that? I get confused with family trees to, so don't feel bad if you don't. Like what in the world is a second cousin? It doesn't matter, because my parents were murdered by a low class Dark Arts group, and Bellatrix Lestrange is dead.

"Anwen, get dressed! Everyone's already in the car!"

I glance down at my black tank top and jean shorts, pull on a sweater. Mrs. Weasley looks over at me, sighs, and then shoos me out to the car. I grab my MP3 player and the charger, then head out side, hearing the older woman grumbling behind me.

The car is a Blue Ford Anglia, and it's spelled to hold twelve people inside. I open the side door and slide inside, beside Hugo and Rose Weasley. They are excited to be going back to school, and for once, they aren't bickering.

"Nice to see you up," my brother Jake says, tone dry. He holds his skateboard in his lap. "Finally."

"Yeah, good morning, Skate freak," I mutter, as Mrs. Weasley gets into the car. I glance over, and see my eleven year old sister, Jacinda. She's still asleep. Last night, she was so excited to go to Hogwarts for the first time, that she slept past her bed time by a few hours. Jake must have carried her into the car.

Apparently, Hermione had heard my remark, because she gives me a look. "Don't call your brother a freak," she reprimands, but it's more out of habit. Rose and Hugo always fight. She feels bad for us, I know, but sometimes it's annoying, because we can deal by ourselves.

The car rattles off, meeting the Potter's car, as it drives to King's Cross Station. I crane my neck to look inside the car, and see the dark outline of Albus Potter, waving from the back of the car, between James and his sister Lily. I wave back.

The one thing I love about magic is that twelve people can fit in the car. Hermione, Ron, Hugo, Rose, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Jake, Toby, Arran (my brothers), Cassiopeia, Jacinda (my sisters), and I can all fit into the car, and there's still ample room to move about.

Since my second year, there has been _some_ improvement in Hogwarts, meaning that there are power outlets in every common room. Of course, there are charms over them to protect some witless first year from electrocuting themselves, and sometimes magical interference messes up complex devices, but my MP3 is still okay to use.

One reason I'm eager to go to Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley is always poking at the power outlet I had installed by myself in the room I share with Cass and Jacinda.

Another reason I'm looking forward to Hogwarts, my friends.

I know Albus likes to think of us as a trio- you know, first it was James Potter, his grandfather, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, and then it was Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and now, he says, it's him, me, and Scorpius.

James, his older brother, just laughs at him, but the adults get a little starry eyed when they remember what they got into when they went to Hogwarts. I personally don't mind. Scorpius doesn't either.

Third reason I'm excited for Hogwarts, is that I don't have to deal with annoying siblings, In fact, I don't have to deal with anyone beside Albus and Scorpius. We're all in Slytherin.

Albus is in Slytherin, I think, because:

a) He wants to prove his brother wrong, and show that Slytherin isn't actually terrible

b) He wants to get as far away from his brother ass possible while in school

c) He is a genius at strategy. I'm not kidding. Try to beat him in a game of wizard's chess.

Scorpius is in Slytherin, but I think that he should be in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Maybe he's just quiet because his father is suspected of being an ex-Death Eater, and he likes to read to stay away from everyone else. But, really, anyone who can pull off so many pranks and not get caught my Minerva McGonagall truly deserves to be in Slytherin.

And me? I have no idea why I'm in Slytherin. Some people definitely know where they're going to go, even before they get into Hogwarts, and the Sorting is just a formality. But no, I let an old enchanted hat decide where I belong.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hogwarts Express is a huge, scarlet train, and it sat, emitting steam, as we cross the barrier. As soon as we got out of the car, I'd met up with Anwen, and now we were looking for Scor's white blonde head among the crowd of students and parents. I glance back at the adults, who were saying tearful goodbyes. I grin as James looks increasingly uncomfortable, and he turns away to load our trunks onto the train to escape the embarrassment.

Anwen sees him first, waving to get his attention. Finally, she makes eye contact, and he crosses the crowds and makes his way towards us, his parents following behind. Draco Malfoy and his son look exactly alike, but something in Scor's eyes are much friendlier than his father. I've never failed to be intimidated by Scor's father.

"Anwen! Albus! Hey!" he greets, a wide smile appearing on his face. He holds a book in the bend of his arm, as usual. Scor reads a lot, to stay away from the people who tease him about his family, since they were involved in the Death Eaters, like pure blood families were. I don't really like reading.

I glance at him, noticing that I have to glance up at him to look him in the eye. "Hi! Man, you're taller now. I'll have to catch up." James has teased me endlessly about my height, so now I'm a little touchy about how tall I am, even though I'm already taller than most people in my year. Apparently, the shorter I am, the dumber I am. That's what James says, anyway, and I like to think that I don't believe him at all.

Anwen looks at Scor's father. I remember that this is the first time she's actually seen him. She holds out her left hand- she's a lefty, and Draco Malfoy looks surprised, but acquiesces to the silent greeting.

"I'm Anwen Lestrange." She has that look on her face that's usually there when she introduces herself, daring anyone to make fun of her for being related to Death Eaters, especially Bellatrix Lestrange, who was killed by my grandmother during the battle of Hogwarts.

He shakes her hand, a bit awkwardly, with his left hand, hiding a grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, trying to be as serious as Anwen is. "I'm Draco Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Scorpius squirms uncomfortably, embarrassed. His mother introduces herself as well, and Anwen seems to be at ease talking to adults. She did it to my parents as well-introducing herself by shaking hands. Her face is courteous, but with a reserve that only kids ever notice. Mum says it's because she wants to make sure people knew who she was, as an individual. That makes absolutely no sense to me, but my mum is usually right about those things.

"She did that to Mum and Dad too," I whisper to Scor, who makes a face that is more eloquent than anything he could have said.

"A Lestrange?" Scor's father asks, "then we're related quite closely."

"Yeah, uh," Anwen pauses for a second, working out the family tree in her head. "You're like, my dad's cousin?" I can tell she has no idea what she's talking about. She's bad with family trees. My dad looks at us, then heads over, standing behind me with a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Malfoy hasn't noticed him yet. Dad tells me that they were enemies back at school, and that's probably why McGonagall gives us funny looks in the hall.

Scor groans, protesting. "Don't listen to her, Dad, she's weird."

"I'm weird, am I?" Anwen turns, a brief look of irritation flashing across her face. Draco Malfoy just laughs, straightening.

Dad looks surprised to hear him laugh- as if he's never heard it before. But Scor tells me that once, his dad laughed so hard that milk came out of his nose. Scor is just really funny like that, I guess. He's been trying to make the Headmistress laugh, by playing pranks on her, but it's never worked. I think he'll do the same this year.

The train screams out it's warning whistle, and Malfoy straightens. "Well," he says, "it's nice to meet you, Ms. Anwen," he says, watching Scorpius and I move towards the train door. Anwen follows. We choose a car on the side of the train where we can look at our parents, waving as the train pulls away. Scor spots his dad awkwardly exchanging pleasantries with my uncle and my dad.

Anwen doesn't wave, she hasn't since her parents died. It almost physically hurts her to remember that no parents are waving at her when she leaves for school. I can barely remember what they looked like, but I can tell she remembers, staring out the window long after we've pulled away. Scor and I are silent, always uncomfortable with the subject of Anwen's parents. Then she turns to us, a grin splitting over her face.

"Your dad-" she starts, but Scor holds a hand up.

"Don't say anything." He tries to keep a straight face, and Anwen changes the topic.

"You do anything over the summer?" she asks, putting her feet up on the seat.

"We went to the countryside," Scor shrugs. He does it every year. "You guys do anything?"

"No," I say, "except play quidditch in the back yard and some other stuff. We celebrated my dad's birthday, and James accidentally blew up his piece of cake."

Scor has always wanted siblings. And he's always wanted to stay at our house for summer- it must be boring, with just his parents. But I know he feels bad, leaving them alone every year to go to school. He always goes back for holidays.

"I didn't do much either," Anwen says, although it's pretty obvious, we're basically cousins, ever since Rose and Hugo's family took them in for foster care. It's been three years now, too. "I did do more research on that Dark Arts group that killed my parents.

There's an awkward silence. Anwen has been almost obsessively looking for who killed her parents. I think it's a small, low class Dark Arts group, who went to look for all the blood traitors in the house of Black or something like that, but Anwen doesn't believe me. She thinks it's something way deeper than that.


	3. Chapter 3

We talk about quidditch a bit more. I'm a Chaser, and so is Al. Anwen is Slytherin's seeker, and in our opinions, she's the best. My dad was a Seeker when he was in school, and he says that he was the very best. My dad always says that he was the best at everything. Albus always argues and says that _his _dad is the best Seeker, and his dad was in Gryffindor. I mean, our dad's were enemies in school, but that doesn't mean that Al and I have to be enemies.

Anwen buys some chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes, and we devour them like a force as strong as Voldemort once was. We're teenagers. We're always hungry. I think that Anwen has summer job somewhere, because every year she busy a lot of food from the snacks cart and pays older students to buy joke shop items from Hogsmeade.

About halfway through the ride, the compartment door slides open. I actually was expecting it to, because every year, James comes in to hassle his brother. I'm right, and Albus stands as his brother sags against the door. He has a black eye. Typical, he gets into a fight before we even get into school.

"Hey," the older boy says weakly, "I thought I heard you guys." He steps in, and closes the door. I already have my wand out, because out of all of us, I trust myself the most with healing charms. Anwen doesn't like Charms class, and I wouldn't put it past Al to 'accidentally' blow Jame's eye out altogether.

"Who was it?" Anwen says, a bit curious. "Teddy? Lysander?"

"Neither." James grimaces as my charm does it's job. "It was Lily. Have you seen her? She ran off, and she was pretty mad."

"What'd you say?" Albus sighs, used to James riling people up. I've actually never heard of James and Lily fighting- James positively adores his little sister.

I wish I had siblings. Mum and Dad are the best parents, but I still get lonely from time to time. Even though James likes to tease Albus, they can't live without each other either. It's something like that I'm missing- a person who's always there for me, whether it's to make fun of me or not. But I think that Mum and Dad are to busy to have another kid- they both work for the Ministry, and I don't bring it up so they won't feel bad.

"Nothing," James is saying, "Except 'Hello,' and, 'you look terrible'. Because she was already upset." James looks distraught, as if making his sister mad was his fault, and the world was about to end.

"I wouldn't let it get at you. I don't think she was mad at you, exactly." Anwen pauses to think for a moment. "But you did say she looked terrible."

"But I meant that she looked upset!" James frowned. "That made her mad?"

I find that, sometimes, James is too curious for his own good. At least, he is just nosy, and at most, he is annoyingly persistent and stubborn. It's gotten him into so much trouble. I mean, there's not much difference between him and me; we're both curious about everything, but he always gets caught investigating and I don't. That's probably why he's in Gryffindor and I'm in Slytherin.

So yes, I am curious about what set Lily off. She's usually a very kind and soft-spoken kind of person. What would make her mad? Whatever it was, I guess that it's probably something pretty bad. I stifle a sigh, and avoid the urge to to roll my eyes. Drama, and we're not even in school yet.

Of course, I know, when you go to a co-ed boarding school for teenagers, you're always going to encounter an abundance of drama, teenage angst, and whatever happens when your hormone levels start being jacked up. I usually stay away from that type of thing, just because I'm shy of the fact that I'm inevitably going to be part of the drama eventually. Anwen agrees with me, but I think it's because she doesn't want to be under the spotlight.

Albus doesn't care. I don't think Albus would mind being more talked about that James once in a while. Anwen, I know hates being the center of attention. She thinks that because of her family, people won't like her. and thee's something else too, something she refuses to tell anyone. I'm not scared. I'm just wary. I mean, you have to watch what you do, because everyone will be scrutinizing your every move.

Most people would love to be in the spotlight. I prefer to stay with my books and my two friends. Everyone except for Anwen and Al think I'm bookish, but I just use my books to avoid talking to people I don't want to be talking to.

* * *

The train rumbles away, murmuring memories and secrets from pasts long ago.

It keeps all the names of children who have stepped cautiously onto the Express for the first time. _Scorpius, _it whispers. _Albus. Anwen. _It flies past landscapes, revealing snatches from an outside world it's passengers aren't a part of, bringing it's passengers _home, home, home._

It reminisces about the words that filled it, shouts, laughter, voices that came from the compartments. _Excitement, joy, a little nervousness. I'm taking you home, home, home._

It recalls what happened, long, long ago. _A professor on the train. Dementors. A group of three kids, huddled in a compartment, laughing. James. Sirius. Remus. Harry. Ron. Hermione._

_Scorpius, Albus, Anwen._

It remembers the sounds, the feelings. The _swish _of robes, the _clatter _and the _rattle _of the trunks, the _thud, _of footsteps down the main aisle. _Swish, Clatter, Rattle, Thud. _

I've always wondered where the Express went, what it did, when it wasn't bringing kids to and from Hogwarts. For some reason, the train fascinates me.

_Swish. Clatter, rattle. Thud. A professor on the train. Dementors. Home, home, home. A group of three kids, huddled in a compartment, laughing._

_James. Sirius. Remus. Harry. Ron. Hermione._

_Scorpius, Albus, Anwen._

_ I'm taking you home, home home._

_Home._

_Albus, Anwen, Scorpius._

_Scorpius, home, home, home._


	4. Chapter 4

The train lulls Scor to sleep - it does every year. Al is arguing with James over something or another. I have my 50% charged MP3 plugged in, watching Scor sleep and Albus grow more irritated by the second.

It's been the same for years. Something about routine is safe, comfortable. When something unusual happens, you feel uneasy. You want to be able to predict what will happen next, and know what you're supposed to do.

For some reason, this year is beginning to feel different. I don't have the same of-the-moment attitude at the moment. It's almost like I feel... nostalgic. No, that's not right. It's a feeling, the kind that hovers at the edge of your mind, and you can't really figure out what it is, you just know that it's there. Strange, I guess, different. Almost excitement, but not quite. Like something big is going to happen, but no one knows what it is, when it will come. It's also the feeling that you won't be there to see it, or be part of the excitement. What is the word for that feeling? Loneliness? Longing? Sadness? It's more of an in between feeling, one of those slippery, unwanted feelings. You want everything to stay the same, and keep going on the way you want it to be. The way it always has been. But that's not the way time works- it twists, and turns, it changes things. Hours can be long, and they can be short. A year can go by in an instant.

It has officially been three years since my parents died. Three, entire, long years. Three. I'm considering how this strange number. Three. A lot of things come in threes. There are three boys, three girls, in my family. Supposedly, there is a trio of friends every generation. Scor tells me that three is a powerful sort of number, but that doesn't really make sense to me. Jake tells me that there are three worlds- the one we come from, the one we are in now, and the one we're heading for. Jake is a year older than me, so most of the time I just assume he knows what he's talking about. I was born on the third day of the third month. I'm the third eldest child in my family. It's a bit strange, how there are a lot of coincidences with me and the number three.

If your wondering, which I'm sure you aren't, (I just don't know where else to put this paragraph, so excuse me), my siblings are Toby, Cassie, Jake, Arran, and Jacinda, in age order, there's a year gap between me and Arran. Arran and Toby look the same- dark hair, which they purposely make messy, because they think it's cool, grey eyes. I think it's because the magical side of my family is pureblood, but some recessive gene or another makes Jake albino. He hates it, but he has blonde- more like off white- hair and pale grey eyes. Sort of a washed out look. Cassie and I have long, straight dark hair and brown eyes, but Jay likes to wear her hair short and she has blue eyes.

In any case, I instantly recognize Jake when he slide the compartment door back, his hair just visible through the translucent window. I turn off my music. Albus glances up. "Hi," he says. Jake nods in reply, and then steps into the aisle so we can talk in private.

"Remember that story about the Room of Requirement?" Jake asks immediately, excitement obvious, dancing in his eyes. He's talking about the room that shows up when you need it at Hogwarts. Albus says that his dad talked about it, that he used it as some sort of training room, when Dumbledore temporarily left the school.

"Yeah," I say, not really sure where this conversation is going.

"Yeah, so Teddy says he knows where it is," Jake tells me, in the same excited voice he uses when he's talking about skateboarding. "He says he's been inside it! He says that sometimes, there's a mirror inside, and _he can see his parents inside it."_

His voice lowers at the end of the sentence, and I know what he's thinking. He's hoping to see Mum and Dad. "It's that mirror," I realize, "that one, that Albus talks about. It's called the mirror of Esrid- Desire backwards."

"It only shows what you really want," Jake nods, "I know. Think about it! We could go down, just to take a look..." I already am agreeing with him, and old silly dream of having parents again reigniting somewhere.

"Nobody else knows," he tells me, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet, "I want to make sure it's there, in case it doesn't work." I nod, and then Jake hurries off, to where ever he's going to.

That's Jake, always hurrying, always moving, distracting himself from other things. When I get back into the compartment, James is leaving with a pleased expression on his face, and Albus looks annoyed, as is the usual mood after Albus-James arguments. Scor's still asleep, snoring softly.

Jake never annoys me that much, and he certainly never annoys me every five minutes. I can't imagine what it would be like to have James as a brother. I mean, he already irritates me enough, and I don't have to live with him. "Does he annoy you that much?"

"Nah," Albus immediately assumes a nonchalant look. "It just feels like I always have to keep up with him."

"Ignore him," I say, "he's just teasing." James just likes to do that kind of thing. I doubt that he means to make Al upset, just a little annoyed. He likes to see that he's still in charge, that the things he says are taken seriously. I think that's why he always tries to rile Al up.

Albus rolls his eyes. "That's what my dad tells me." I don't know if Al's dad really understands- he's never had a sibling. His parents died before he was old enough to remember much of anything. "Just teasing" is almost like the way you tell someone you care enough to annoy them. I don't know, it's complicated, like everything else.

The train keeps going, and the lunch trolley passes by. I buy three sandwiches, and Scor wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He eats his sandwich quickly, though, and we start talking again. Quidditch seems to be the main topic this year.

If we win again, Professor Evariste will have a fit. He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and he's also the head of Gryffindor house. Professor Greengrass is our head of house, and she is the current Potions teacher, after Slughorn died. Coincidentally, she's also Scor's aunt. Gryffindor and Slytherin have been neck and neck for the House cup.

I can't wait for this year. It's going to be fun. Because when has a year in Hogwarts _not_ been interesting?

* * *

**Hi! How has the story been so far? Wait- you can answer that in a review. I loooove reviews! At least, I wouldn't mind someone criticizing my work. So go review…. Puhleeeeeeease?**


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't know, Al," Anwen says, as Scor stirs. "Don't you think this year feels... _different?"_

_"Different?" Different. _The way she says it has some sort of accent behind it. Her brown eyes are deadly serious. She's not kidding around. _Different? _What type of day could be less different? Every year, we all get on the Express. We talk, we eat lunch, we get to Hogwarts. Exactly the same thing we do, like clockwork.

I don't like different. Different like the time I first saw Anwen, quiet and hunched over a book in the library. Different like Scorpious Malfoy punching a sixth year in the face. Different. What was _different?_ I stare at Anwen, confused. Did something happen?

"No," I say to Anwen, and we don't talk about it again. But she asks Scor.

"Doesn't it seem like something is _different?" _she asks. Scor considers the question, somber grey eyes suddenly clouded, as if it was a difficult question.

_No! _I want to say, _nothing is different. _

_"_Yes." Scor decides. "I didn't notice it before. But you brought it up, and now I can kind of tell. Do you think so, Al? It's almost like this is nostalgic."

"No," I insist, still not sure what they're talking about. "What are you talking about?" But now, it's starting to creep in. An uneasy, indecisive feeling. A feeling that I was looking in on somebody else's life. I didn't like it. Nostalgic? Didn't that mean you were missing something, and that you wished you could go back to it? No. Not nostalgia.

"Not nostalgic." Anwen says, and I feel temporarily relieved, "more like something is going to happen."

"And we're not going to be here to see it." I surprise myself by finishing her sentence. "But what is it? Everything has been the same. Nothing has changed."

"It's been three years." Anwen says, suddenly, and I'm puzzled, until I figure out what she's talking about. Three years ago, her parents died. "I'm the third child in my family,'' she continues, "we're a group of three friends. The third generation."

"Three?" Scor's forehead creases. "Three years ago, when we first came to Hogwarts, you know what the Sorting Hat told me? It told me that it should out me in Gryffindor, but I really wanted to be in a House with you guys, and I ended up in Slytherin."

"Me too!" I say, startled. "My dad told me that the Sorting Hat gave him a choice. So when I was Sorted, and both you guys were in Slytherin, I really wanted to be in Slytherin. Plus, James is in Gryffindor, and I didn't want to be sorted there."

"It just put me in Slytherin. I didn't ask it anything." Anwen tells us.

"Yeah, but some of your family is in Slytherin." I say. Her brother Jake and her sister Cassie are in Slytherin.

"But Arran and Toby are in Gryffindor," Anwen argues. "Why? Families usually go into the same house, don't they?"

"I didn't." I remind her. "Scor did, though." His entire family was in Slytherin, I'm pretty sure.

"What do you think my dad would say if I got into Gryffindor, huh?" Scor argues. "Not, 'good job'. He'd probably disown me."

"Really?" Anwen frowns. "Your dad?"

"He still gets these random times when he's obsessed with blood status and stuff like that." Scors voice lowers. "Plus, my grandfather... He'd definitely be mad. I mean, he seemed really proud when I got into Slytherin."

Lucius Malfoy is scary. He was an honest to goodness Death Eater, and so was his wife, Narcissa. But my dad had said that Scor's dad wasn't a Death Eater, and both our dads prevented Scor's grandparents from going to Azkaban. But Scor's grandparents were still sticklers for pure blood family tradition.

"My dad said that it didn't matter what house I got into." I remember. James was being pretty annoying, and he kept telling me that getting into Slytherin was a bad thing. But being in Slytherin isn't so bad, and I can't imagine myself bring in another house now.

We talk about the houses a bit more. Scor reckons that I'm the first Potter to ever be in Slytherin, and Anwen thinks that there wasn't another family where the children were in Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Wait a minute, what about the Blacks?" Scor says, "one was in Gryffindor. And the other was in Slytherin."

"Oh yeah, Sirius and Regulus." Dad always talked about them- both died, but Sirius was his godfather, and Regulus had tried to destroy one of the horcruxes that Voldemort had used to become almost immortal. I still like to hear the story about how my dad, uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione killed Voldemort. James says that I'm too old to ask Dad to tell stories- but I think that he likes to listen to it too. Plus, the adults like telling it, and Uncle Ron always makes funny things up.

"Can you imagine what it would be like to live when Voldemort was still alive?" Anwen asks, "it must have been terrible, always being afraid that you were going to die next."

"Anwen and I would have been fine," Scor shrugs, "We're pure blood- I'm just kidding, Al."

I grin, "you're so insensitive. If I were alive then, I wouldn't be allowed to go out at all. My mum still doesn't let me go out by myself. I wouldn't be able to leave the house if Voldemort was still around."

"You wouldn't even go to school." Anwen points out, then looks out the window. It's getting darker, and the last rays of sunlight dart out from between trees. The lights in the train are on. We're nearly at school. "Maybe my parents would still be alive. Maybe they wouldn't have gone out to meet friends, and maybe they wouldn't have been killed."

She pauses. "Hang on. My parents. They were going to see friends. Who were they?"

Now that I think of it, it's funny, I've never heard of the people who Anwen's parents went out to meet. Were they at the funeral? I didn't go, because I wasn't friends with Anwen yet.

"You think that they could tell you what happened to your parents?" I ask.

"If you can figure out who they were." Scor adds.

"I don't know, you think?" Anwen thinks. "I mean, I have to figure out who they were."

"They were on their way to the Three Broomsticks, right? So they went to meet people who were magical," Scor starts, "maybe from their work, or your dad's old school friends."

"Do they let Muggles into Hogsmeade?" I have never seen a Muggle in any magical place before, but my dad says that Aunt Hermione's parents stayed at a wizarding hotel before.

"Probably. I mean, if the Muggle already knows where Hogsmeade is and stuff, I think it would be ok." Scor says. "But, did your dad know Anwen's dad in school?"

"No. He was in Ravenclaw." Anwen says.

"Your dad wasn't in Slytherin?" Scor looks surprised. "Wasn' he a Lestrange?"

"Yeah." Anwen thinks. "School friends? There was Grant Page, the Ravenclaw Keeper, and then there was Luna Lovegood, and oh, what was his name? Cedric Diggory. He died."

"Hang on, isn't Luna the name of Lysander and Lorcan's mother?" Lysander and Lorcan are twins, and even though they just started school last year, they aways get into fights with James.

Anwen just shrugs, and looks out the window again, ending the conversation. Scor and I leave her alone. She'd lost her parents when she could remember them, not when she was young, like my dad.

Sometimes she still misses them, and sometimes she doesn't pay attention to things because she thinks about them all the time. The professors always let her off, because they feel sorry for her and her siblings. I mean, she still gets top marks.

A few minutes later, we reach Hogwarts.


	6. Chapter 6

I love Hogwarts. The Great Hall, with it's enchanted ceiling, contains four long tables, paired with benches. Empty plates, bowls, and silverware sit in their places at each seat. The teacher's table is in front of the room, beside the Sorting Hat, which sat on a chair. Last year, they'd started using a chair with a back, after quite a few first years had fallen off the traditional stool, from behind.

We all sat at the table, according to house. I can just glimpse the new students, clustered anxiously by the door that lead to the Great Hall, ready to see what their house would be. Anwen and Albus take their seat beside me, like we had for the three years we had been at Hogwarts.

At the Head table, there sat Minerva McGonagall, the white-haired Head Mistress. No one really knows how old she is, only that she is extremely old, but still refuses to retire. I think she's around 85 years old, but I'm not really sure.

Beside her is the head of Gryffindor, Professor Evariste, a tall, wiry man, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. At first glance, he seems mild, but when you actually sit in his class, you learn otherwise. Albus' adopted brother, Teddy, thinks that Professor Evariste is the very best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher ever, besides his father, Remus Lupin, who died at the battle of Hogwarts.

Beside him, Professor Greengrass who is currently glaring at the Head of Gryffindor House. She has dark brown, nearly red hair that drips past her shoulders. Her face is like my mother's- the typical Greengrass face, oval, with wide, flashing blue eyes.

And on the other side of the Headmistress, is Neville Longbottom, the Herbology professor. A little ungainly, and disheveled looking, Professor Longbottom was an old friend of Al's dad. Everyone knows that he was a Gryffindor, but at the moment, he's the Head of Hufflepuff. Apparently, the professor had actually destroyed a Horcrux, even if it was extremely difficult to see him cutting a head off a massive snake. He hates snakes. Don't ask how I know that.

The Head of Ravenclaw is the slightly strange, Professor Scamander, the professor of the Care of Magical Creatures. He's Lorcan and Lysander's father, and is probably as strange as their mother. He has a strange liking for creatures that no one has ever seen before. No wonder he's the Care of Magical Creature's Professor. The previous professor, Hagrid, was working with one of Al's uncles, the one that bred dragons.

"Where do you think Jay's going to end up?" Anwen asks me, referring to her sister that was starting her first year at Hogwarts. "I think she'll be in Gryffindor."

"Probably," I shrug, knowing her sister only from what she had told me about her, "but you never know."

"She'll probably be in Gryffindor," Albus says. He knows Jacinda better than I do. I catch sight of her, a small, thin girl, with short hair, and huge, liquid blue eyes. She looks terrified. Not terrified like the other first years, more like overly cautious. Anwen tells me that Jacinda has always been worried about everything, when in reality, she's so smart she can out think her eldest brother, who is in his seventh year of Hogwarts.

The Sorting starts. The hat sings it's song. Only a few people listen, but this year, a ripple of unease spreads through staff and students alike, as the song starts.

_Be careful, what you wish to achieve. _

_Think hard before you speak. _

_Darkness forms at the brink of war. _

_Hogwarts will be safe no more... _

Tersley, the professors glanced at one another, and he few students who were paying attention frowned, perplexed. Anwen and Al weren't paying attention, at least, Anwen wasn't until she heard the word. _Three. Three shall roam the days of yore, their hearts all lost on the rush of the shore. The third generation- the last and the only. Be vigilant... _

"Honestly, Al, cut it out!" Anwen snarls, before turning and realizing that it wasn't Al tapping her shoulder. A small second year- so short that she barely reached our height while we were sitting- looks nervous. "Oh. Sorry."

"Professor Evariste wants to see you after the feast, in his office." The girl looks frightened by Anwen's outburst, and she scurries away, unnoticed because of her height. We all look up at Evariste, just barely lifts an eyebrow at us. The professor can be extremely infuriating, and mysterious. It's annoying. We all have dealt with it at one time or another, that lift of the eyebrows, when he assigns an impossible amount of homework, or when we ask questions about his past.

Jacinda is assigned to Gryffindor, as predicted. After the feast the three of us hurry down the corridors to the Deense Against The Dark Arts classroom. Through that room was Evariste's office. He is already sitting there, ready for us. He always seems to be ready. Always on his guard. Always with his wand within reach.

"You know," Evariste says, casually, "I only recall having little Nannerel to ask Ms. Lestrange down to my office. But seeing as you tree cannot be separated, I suppose that you all can come in." He gestures at three chairs lined up against the wall of his office. Oh yes. I have no doubt that the three of us would come together. I do admire Evariste, but sometimes I can't help but wonder...

"I hope you don't mind, Ms. Lestrange, if I discuss some things that I think are a bit... Sensitive. About your family. And your brother, Jakob." Anwen looks sharply at us, then shrugs.

"Fine, then." She squares her shoulders, a look of uncomfortable nonchalance forcefully plastered cross her face. "I don't mind."

"Good, good." The professor seems a little amused. "As you well know, synesthesia is a common trait in your family. It's why Bellatrix was insane. Some people had it- worse than others. Your brother has it worse. So do you. But synesthesia is just the Muggle word for it. It's rare. You can use it. Your brother, Jakob. He thinks that he can do anything with his talent. Unfortunately, I've made the choice, when he came to me, to help him master his gift."

"You actually HELPED him?" Anwen seems shocked. "Why didn't you help me?"

"You never asked," Evariste says, "I am not, after all, your head of House."

"You're not Jake's head of house either." Anwen seems offended. A usual expression, for Anwen who always seems to be irritated. "Anyway. What about him?"

"Your brother thinks he can do anything. He has something in mind. Something, I think, that is probably idiotic. I know your brother. He's reckless. You've got to stop him, Ms. Lestrange."


	7. Chapter 7

Jake? Reckless? That's not exactly the word I would have used. Something like… over confident, but not stupid. Yes, there were times when my synesthesia seemed to be more than it seemed- more of reality, than something only I could see. And yes, I knew that synesthesia, or, u_ires sensus, _could, at some extent be used as wandless magic. But I never knew that Jake was actually learning how to use it.

Synesthesia had always been a slightly touchy subject for me. I'm uncomfortable discussing the things that make me stand out even more from other people. I've always had the need to be ordinary, someone that no one would glance twice at. When I was younger, I wasn't sure how other people saw the world, and so, for a while, when I talked, no one could understand me. Synesthesia is different for everyone, even two people from the same family who have them. After my first year at Hogwarts, I had a slightly better idea of how to communicate with other people, and by my second year, I could pass for someone who didn't have synesthesia. I catch on quickly. It's a thing that I've always had to do, and as a result, I can do very well.

I stare at Evariste, trying to sort out something in my mind. First of all, Evariste was teaching my brother how to use his _sensus, _but how could he, if he didn't have synesthesia? Second, would have Evariste known that Jake would suddenly go bad? If so, why did he try to teach him? Third, _just how powerful was Jake?_ My brother could get over-emotional and lash out at other people, especially about our parents, but I wasn't very sure what he would and wouldn't do.

Evariste regards me with interest, gauging my reaction. What did he think Jake was going to do? I can see Scor and Al watching me as well, uncomfortable with what I'm about to say.

"What do you think he's going to do?" I ask, finally. "Blow up the school?"

The professor gives me a pointed look. "I think you know."

An uneasy, cold feeling curls into being, as I listen to his reply. _I know. _And I think I do. Suddenly, I don't want Scor or Al to be here anymore. Evariste seems to realize this, and says something to my friends. They go and wait outside the door. The world around me is blurring, and all I can here is Evariste, saying, "_I think you know." _For three years now, ever since my parents died, I've been the oldest. Not by age, but by responsibility. I'm the oldest, in the sense that I'm the one making the decisions. Toby and Cassie aren't taking responsibility, and heaven knows that Jake isn't up to the job. For three years now, I've been holding my family up, and it's been my job. And now, there's something else coming up. Something even bigger, more dangerous, and definitely more drastic.

"You know what I'm talking about." Evariste sits back behind the desk across from me. "You're his sister. You can stop him."

"But- " I'm cut off, by the impatient wave of a hand.

"Anwen, you don't have a choice," he says. It's true, whether I like it or not. And I don't like it. "You have to stop him. Who knows what could happen? He wants to something that Dark Arts isn't Dark enough to comprehend."

But what can I do? Against Jakob Lestrange? The older brother I've alway liked better then the rest of my siblings? The only one who seems to watch out for me, and think I'm worth the time? What can I do against my brother, the one who's always been there, when even Scorpius and Albus weren't?

"Anwen. Listen to me. You're going to be in my office everyday from now on, after dinner, and I'm going to do my best to help you to stop Jakob," he tells me. "I am going to help you. Your friends will be there to help you. You aren't alone."

I remember the song,

_When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high_  
_And don't be afraid of the dark_  
_At the end of the storm, there's a golden sky_  
_And the sweet, silver song of a lark_

_Walk on through the wind_  
_Walk on through the rain_  
_Though your dreams be tossed and blown_

_Walk on, walk on_  
_With hope in your heart_  
_And you'll never walk alone_  
_You'll never walk alone_

_Walk on, walk on_  
_With hope in your heart_  
_And you'll never walk alone  
You'll never walk alone_

It seems absurd now- something out of cheesy movie. What can a song do to describe what's happening to me? You'd need an entire symphony or something huge like that, in order to really describe what people feel, through music. I'm not really one to create music, but I could appreciate music.

"Anwen, you give me your word that you're going to do your best to stop your brother, ok?"

"Ok," I say, almost mechanically, "I'll help. Al and Scor would be there to help, right?"

"Of course. I just said that, didn't I?" Evariste says. He's trying to be gentle, and it does something, at least, to lessen the shock of the idea of what is about to happen. OR what might happen, anyway.

"Ok." Evariste gets up, and holds the door for me. "I'll see you there."

Al and Scor walk with me up to the common room in silence, unsure of what to say. My friends are itching to know what JAke is about to do, but I'm not ready to tell them, and I don't know how to say it either, without making them freak out.

Finally, Al can't take it anymore. "What is Jake going to do?"

"I- I, well," I stammer, not sure what to say. We sit down on Scor's bed. Automatically, we've gone up to Scor's room, which he shares with Albus and a few other Slytherin guys. That's usually where we talk, all the other years. I look around. The room is empty, save for us, and one other boy. I lower my voice. "I'm not exactly sure how to say it…" I whisper. "But I think that Jake wants to bring my parents back to life."

-SCOR-

There's complete silence. What Anwen says is so bizarre, that it doesn't register at first. Necromancy is one of the darkest arts. Almost as bad as Voldemort making seven horcruxes. But there is a limit at killing people, and when you cross it, something isn't right anymore. You can't just take a life, without losing something. Bringing the dead back to life is bad, though. Very, very, bad.

But what ever Anwen decides to do, I'm going to be right there with her. She, along with Al, are the closest friends I have, and I ever will have. It's not just over the top loyalty. I honestly care for the both of them, and I would do anything for them. That's called having true friends.

-ALBUS-

I don't know much about necromancy, only that it seems creepy, and it's like making Inferi, which is something Voldemort did. I think back to Jake, and I don't really think he's insane. But there are times, when, I think, he's blinded by how sad he is. I know Lily fancies him, and that he's faintly aware of that fact. Sometimes, she gets hurt by how oblivious he is to other people sometimes.

I'm a little hesitant, but I try to let Anwen know that we're going to help her. She's been holding everything up so well on her own, but I think that holding things up gets tiring after a while, and that the ones who support others deserve to get support as well.


	8. Chapter 8

"It's impossible." Scor announces. We sit in the library, on out third day back to school. Scor is, as usual, reading an enormous book. It's probably as thick as one of the stone slabs that make up the outer walls of the school. He does like to read, but lately, he's been interested in Muggle books that Anwen brings with her to school. I personally don't really have time for it, what with my piles of homework, and Quidditch practice.

I'm trying to finish my homework for Potions. Professor Greengrass is a stickler for getting homework done on time, but her work is usually long and tedious, involving research, and intense focus. Two things I don't like to do. I like Defense Against the Dark Arts better, because there's not a lot of homework, and it's a lot of fun. Especially with Evariste.

"Bringing people back to life, without making them living corpses is impossible." Anwen doesn't answer, but I look at the book Scor's reading, grateful for a distraction from homework. "Anwen. Are you listening to me? Hello?"

Anwen lies with her head in her arms on the table. A muffle sort of sound comes from her, which sounds despondent. She looks up, pulling strands of hair from her face. Besides having dark circles under her eyes, her face has become unhealthily pale. Lately, she's been sneaking out at night. Scor and I don't know where, but we've been trying to figure out. Her sleep cycle has been completely scrambled.

"I know that already," she says, sitting up. "I've been researching it, at night, under the Invisibility Cloak." Ah ha. That's where it went. My dad gave me my cloak on my first year at Hogwarts. It's been disappearing, and I had an idea that Anwen had been taking it. It had always been put back when I checked again in the morning, so I never really worried about it.

"So what are we going to do? You know, for Evariste?" I ask her. "What _have_ you been doing?"

"Following Jake around the school, and trying to figure out what he's doing." She sighs, as if talking made her tired, and we were forcing her to speak. "He disappears off the map all the time, but it's never to the Room of Requirement. I don't know where he goes!"

"Do you think he leaves the grounds?" Scor asks, interested, as always, in the secret passages of the school. Thanks to the Marauder's map, we knew where all secret passages were. At least, all the ones that my grandfather James and his friends knew about. Scorpius was always trying to find new passages. "Why would he do that?"

Anwen shrugs, then pushes her earbuds back into her ears and buries her face in her arms again. Earbuds are a curious thing. They're small, and fit in your ear, but then they play music as if you were standing right next to the band that's playing. My grandfather is obsessed with them, and Anwen gets annoyed by his never ending, incessant studying of her things.

After a while, we all get up and leave, walking towards the Slytherin Common Room. Scor holds the enormous book under his arm. As he walks down the hall, a seventh year runs past and the book goes flying. "Hey!"

Before I can react, Anwen snatches the book out of the air, so inhumanly fast I barely see her do it. I've seen her on the Quidditch Pitch, but I've never seen her move so quickly. Scor stares at her suspiciously. "Nice reflexes," he says cautiously. Anwen hands him the book. "Are you taking lessons from Evariste?"

The question is unexpected. At least, I didn't expect it. Anwen seems like she's been waiting for him to ask the question. Sometimes, there's an instant communication between Scor and Anwen, where they know what the other is about to do. "Yeah," she answers, looking down, embarrassed. "I thought I should."

"Why didn't you tell us?" I demand, not liking how childish I sound. Anwen looks at me strangely, as if the answer was something I was too immature to understand. The look annoys me. James always gives me that look, except he always looks more smug and superior.

"You wouldn't understand." The answer annoys me too. I'm the same age as her. Why wouldn't I understand? Scor seems to be equally irritated. He usually is the one who would understand things better than Anwen and me. Not knowing something has never failed to drive him mad until he figures out what it is.

We step into the common room, and Anwen immediately sits in front of the fire. The Common room is under the lake, and the watery effect made her look oddly detached from the rest of the students doing their homework in the room. Then, startling me, she throws back her head and growls in frustration. "I don't know what to do!" She says this under her breath, but the sharpness under her voice makes Scor look alarmed.

"Did you ask Evariste?" he asks, trying to placate her.

She swore, which was unusual. "I don't trust him," she states. I frown. Why wouldn't she like Evariste? He's smart, and seriously cool. I like him. I don't think there's a person in the entire school who didn't. "I don't know why. But I don't. He… knows things. He always acts like there's something he knows and I don't."

"Anwen?" She turns, as her sister Cassie descends the stair case. Scor immediately blushes. Cassie is in her sixth year, and she is extraordinarily beautiful, with long, wavy dark hair, big, liquid brown eyes, and delicate features. It's pretty obvious he likes her, but I usually refrain from teasing him about it, just because there are things you can tease someone about, and then there are things you stay off of.

"Hi, Cass," Anwen says, standing to meet her sister. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Toby? He left his skateboard down at the quidditch pitch." Cassie looked over at us. "Oh. Hi, Scorpius, hi Albus." Scorpius stammered out a greeting, and I lifted a hand in recognition, trying hard not to grin at Scor.

Anwen rolled her eyes. "Nooooo," she thought for a second. "But I think he was in his room. I'm not sure." Her sister nodded, and then drifted off, back up to her dormitory. For a few seconds, Scorpius looked after her. Then I waved my hand in front of his face.

"Earth to Scor," I grinned. "Rose is going to be jealous." Scor gave me a blank look, as if he didn't know what i was talking about. Rose, my cousin, has had a crush on Scor since she met him, at the train station when she was ten. Scorpius pretends that he doesn't notice. He turns to Anwen, who had returned to looking at the fire.

"I think he's looking for something." Anwen frowns at this new idea. "Jake, I mean."

"Looking for what?"

"I think… he's looking for the Ressurection Stone."

* * *

**Hello! I hope you've enjoyed this story. It's still a little raw, fresh out of my head, and there are a lot of typos which I hope to fix. Leave a review! Any comments and criticism is wholly appreciated!**


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